


A Week at the Café Imbroglio (2011)

by JennyB



Series: Lent 2011 [35]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Gen, Lent Challenge 2011, Prank Wars, Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-12
Updated: 2011-04-12
Packaged: 2018-01-06 19:10:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1110493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennyB/pseuds/JennyB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't just the coffee that was bitter that week...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Week at the Café Imbroglio (2011)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [7veilsphaedra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/7veilsphaedra/gifts).



> Written for Lent Challenge 2011. Prompt: The politics of office coffee mugs.

It had been his fault, really, but it hadn't been intentional.

Colonel Roy Mustang had been thinking about a million things that Monday morning, and the state of the coffee area hadn't even made his list. As he did most mornings, he'd filled up his oversized coffee mug - the one with _World's Greatest Boss_ emblazoned on the side - and headed for his office, not really thinking about the fact that Major Maes Hughes was immediately behind him, and that the major was something of a bear if he didn't have his morning caffeine. Not only had there been but a scant splash remaining in the large urn, not even enough for a single blessed swallow, but there hadn't been enough beans on hand to even prepare another pot. Hughes had glared daggers at the other as he'd grabbed his coat and left Central Command in search of cup of coffee and as he'd choked down the barely tolerable brew from the train station, he'd vowed revenge.

On Tuesday, Mustang arrived in the coffee area to see Hughes leaning against the water cooler and enjoying his morning cup. Arching a brow, he nodded to his friend and reached for his mug, only to freeze as he looked at it. Someone had etched out the 'B' in boss and modified the 'o' to an 'a'. It didn't take a genius to figure out just who that someone had been - if the idiotic grin Hughes wore was anything to go by. "Something on your mind, Major?" Mustang asked, his expression sour as he was forced to use the only remaining mug - the pink one that said _Princess_.

Hughes smirked around the rim of his cup and shook his head. "No, I'm good."

Mustang should have been smart about things and known better than to get into a battle of wits with a sneaky son of a bitch like Hughes. While he didn't know what, exactly, he'd done to get the major's knickers in a twist, he should have realized that Hughes saying he was good meant that he felt vindicated and the issue was resolved. Unfortunately, he hadn't been smart about it. Instead, he'd sat in his office and brooded over the loss of his favourite mug, and when he'd come back from lunch and found the third child's dress-up tiara sitting on his desk - 'gifts' from his subordinates - he was no longer willing to just forget about it.

Wednesday morning, Mustang sat at his desk, his office door open so that he could see down the corridor to the coffee maker. He waited while Hughes poured his coffee into his kitten mug, and when he went to take a sip, Mustang snapped a finger. The mug exploded in a spectacular shower of pottery and coffee. When furious citrine eyes turned to him, Mustang narrowed his own gaze and smirked maliciously as he picked up his own coffee mug - this one printed with _I'm with Stupid_ \- and took a sip, more for spite than anything.

Hughes retaliated on Thursday. Mustang had come to work that morning and had found a cup of coffee waiting for him on his desk. Thinking nothing of it, he picked up the mug and took a sip. Afterwards, he found himself unable to put it down - the handle had been coated with superglue. It cost him a pair of ignition-cloth gloves to free his hand from the porcelain, a small price considering the damage had it stuck to his skin instead, and it was only later in the morning that he realized Hughes' other 'surprise'. Falman had come to discuss something with him, only to clear his throat and discreetly inform his commanding officer that he had something on his face. Mustang quickly identified that 'something' as the boot black that had been put around the rim of his mug, and it had taken some considerable scrubbing on his part to get the ring off his skin. He was still pretty pink in some places.

On Friday, the coffee war ended. Hawkeye had been the unfortunate victim of both Hughes' salt-for-sugar and Mustang's chalk dust-for-creamer, and she'd had more than enough. Cornering both of them, she glowered at them and then thrust identical coffee mugs - save for their initials - at each of them. "Here! The exact same mugs, and either Fuery or I will take it upon ourselves to make sure there's coffee and even _bring it to you_ so the two of you don't have to even _touch_ the machine. Honest to God, you're supposed to be senior officers; try _acting_ like it!" With an impatient huff, she turned on her heel and stormed off down the hall, leaving the two men standing there as she muttered under her breath about staying single for the rest of her life.

For a few moments, neither of them spoke. Then Mustang glanced to his side. "Mind telling me what I did?"

Hughes explained about the coffee urn, his expression turning sheepish when he realized just how stupid and petty the whole thing had been.

Mustang shrugged, an awkward smirk gracing his features. "Not our finest moments, that's for sure." He snorted in amusement. "I think I'll leave this week out of my memoirs."

"Good plan."

Mustang's expression turned thoughtful. "Hey, so she's saying we never have to make it, and we never have to go get it ever again, right?"

Hughes arched a brow. "Sounds like."

"I wonder if she realizes what she just volunteered herself for." A smirk tugged at the corners of Mustang's mouth. "Are you good with that?"

Hughes chuckled lowly, his expression softening for the first time all week. He glanced down at the mug in his hands, and then nodded. "Yeah. I'm good."

Mustang smiled, his previous irritation with his friend all but gone by now. "Yeah, so am I."


End file.
